


It's Tradition

by KrakenCodex (Eghfeithrean)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Keith-Centric, M/M, Nostalgia, Sheith Secret Santa 2016, Team Bonding, There are no sad faces on Christmas, holiday celebrations, kind of? IDK, not on Hunk and Coran's watch, sappy Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eghfeithrean/pseuds/KrakenCodex
Summary: While the Paladins come to terms with their first winter in space, Keith reflects on the holidays past and present and realizes that maybe he does have a tradition of his own after all.Sheith Secret Santa gift for Aurumdalseni.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, here’s my Sheith Secret Santa gift for Aurumdalseni! Sorry I wasn’t able to fit in Galra!Keith, but I did go for the bittersweet.  
> This got… out of hand. I hadn’t planned on it being this long going into it, but I hated to leave everyone else out and... yeah.
> 
> I listened to Fukuhara Miho’s “LOVE ~winter song~” a lot while writing this. It’s such a beautiful song and one of my holiday favorites, so if you want go give it a listen.

“Hey, I’m heading out into town tonight. Wanna come?”

It seemed like ages ago now, when Shiro had asked him that. A different lifetime. In a way, it had been. They’d still been at the Garrison then, both of them. Before the Kerberos mission, before Shiro’s abduction and when Keith dropped out. Before Voltron.

“Sure.”

His response had been easy, immediate. Keith had had nothing to do that night, no plans in particular. Holidays weren’t something he did. Never had, really. Not because he hated the idea of them, more because he’d grown up never observing any. He’d been through orphanage through foster home through foster home, never settling in one place and never having the chance to really appreciate certain holidays as others saw them. To him, they were just ordinary days. 

He hadn’t been interested in any of the countless parties going on that night either, if he’d even been invited. He had thought that Shiro would attend one though, with his friends or just out of obligation; Shiro was polite like that. Keith, not so much.

His own “plans” had been hitting the gym, grabbing a bite to eat, and maybe turning in early to get a few winks of sleep before all the drunken cadets returned from their revelry in town only to start over again. So hanging out with Shiro was clearly the better option. It wasn’t like he’d be missing out on anything.

They’d agreed to leave after their usual sparring practice, rinsing off the sweat of their go-around on the mats (Keith’s win at 5 - 4, though he’d had to work for it) and then bundling up against the chill of the evening and heading out, just the two of them.

Though small, the town closest to the Garrison had been bustling with life - bars and restaurants packed full with Garrison personnel, the locals out and about doing some last minute shopping. Strings of lights and garland curled around every lamppost, shop doors hung with wreaths and window displays bright and cheerful and full of color.

It had been the lights Shiro had come for, Keith had found out, and they’d strolled along making small talk with one hand stuffed in their pockets to keep their fingers from numbing in the brisk winter air and the other wrapped around a cup of cocoa.  
It had been a nice change of pace for Keith, something different, a momentary distraction from his usual day-to-day that he found he didn’t mind in the slightest. He had liked spending time with Shiro - still did. And maybe, after years of loneliness, he’d privately been longing for some company. 

“What do you usually do?” he’d asked, peering at a bookstore’s modest window display, “At home, I mean.”

Shiro had hummed lightly, peeling his eyes from the warm honeyed glow of fake candles on stacks of books. 

“Not much, actually. Most of the time it’s just me and my mom. We don't celebrate Christmas. Not like this, anyway.” He’d said with a gesture toward the window. “But she likes all the lights, so we’d walk around town looking at them. Then we’d go home and eat Christmas cake.”

A shrug, chuckling, “We’ve done it every year since I was kid, before I came here. It’s not much, but I like it. It’s quiet.Simple. ”

Keith’s lips had slid upwards at the admission into a smile, small but honest.

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s not the same, but the lights are still pretty.”

There’d been a momentary pause between them as Keith had wrestled with himself, wanting an answer but unsure if he’d like the one he’d receive. They’d been friends, they’d hung out plenty of times before, but he’d always had the impression that holidays were supposed to be special, something only shared with those closest to you. He knew that to be untrue now, but back then he’d has less experience with it. 

“Why’d you invite me?”

Shiro had smiled easily, not missing a beat. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

They continued down the sidewalk, eyes skating over trees dripping with ornament behind windows, and side-stepping the occasional pedestrian. He’d made it seem so simple.

“Yeah, well maybe I wanted to hit up a party tonight.” Keith had shot back, feigning disappointment.

He’d received a quirked a brow at that, Shiro looking wholly unconvinced. He’d gusted a short exhale through his nose in amusement and bumped shoulders lightly with his friend.

Their walk had progressed a short while longer until Shiro broke the silence once more.

“Because I knew you weren’t doing anything.” he had added softly, breath puffing a misty white as he spoke. “I hated for you to be alone, and I didn’t want to be either. So I thought we should spend it together.” 

It hadn’t been what Keith had been expecting, though upon later of reflection Keith shouldn’t have been surprised. That was just the way Shiro was, so thoughtful and considerate even back then. He remembered slowing his pace a fraction, turning his head to look at his friend’s profile. He’d studied Shiro a moment before looking down and scuffing the sole of his boot against the sidewalk, soft smile hidden behind the scarf wound around his neck.

“Thanks.”

 

They’d gone to a small bakery after that, the middle-aged woman behind the counter referring to Shiro by name, before returning to the Garrison with two small boxes in hand. The smallest, Shiro had told him, was full of cookies for the Holt family. The other had been their cake.  
They’d trudged up to the roof of the barracks with it, a blanket, and two forks. 

The building had been quiet and dark with most of the cadets still partying in town, and Keith had reveled in the momentary peace. They’d had a nice view of town off in the distance, a flare of bright artificial light that had glowed in the encompassing darkness of the desert. While usually a static golden yellow, that night it had glittered in all colors; reds here, greens and blues peppered throughout. Above, the stars had shone just as brightly, as crisp as the air around them and just as breathtaking.

The cake had been small and moist, perfectly sized to be shared between the two of them. Strawberry shortcake, with whipped cream and whole strawberries on top, dusted in a fine layer of powdered sugar. It hadn’t been a “true” Christmas cake, according to Shiro, but it had been the closest thing he could find.

Keith hadn’t cared. Cake was cake, and it had been delicious.

They’d stayed huddled together on that rooftop for hours, well into the night, laughing quietly together about this and that and marveling at the stars they both longed to reach. 

It had been simple - perfect, in Keith’s opinion. It had been his first time truly celebrating something and he wouldn’t have changed a thing.  
They’d promised to do it again after Shiro returned from space. Keith had actually looked forward to it, joking that maybe they could even find a real Christmas cake by then. Shiro had laughed, saying that that alone was worth coming back to.

By that following year, Shiro had been pronounced dead.

\----

When Pidge made the estimate that it was late December back on Earth, Keith hadn’t been too fussed. To him it was just another reminder of how long they’d been in space, how much further they still had yet to go in their fight against Zarkon. And yeah, he missed the small comforts of his little shack and the privacy it had afforded him, but more than that he understood that there was a job that needed to be done, one that only they could do, and so he set his focus on that mission.  
Besides, he had all the people he cared about with him, something he wouldn’t have even thought possible a mere year ago, and that was more than enough. He had friends, and Shiro -back, he was back-, and, remarkably, Shiro’s quiet love. To ask for more than that would be selfish.

For the others, however, it had been a sobering realization. One that brought with it a heartsickness that settled over the entirety of the castle ship like a rain cloud, for it was then that the Paladins truly felt the approximate year they had spent floating in space, trapped in a war for the fate of the universe with the outcome resting on their young shoulders. It was a heavy weight, one made heavier by the individual stresses that tore at them; their longing to be with loved ones, for the familiar, for peace, for rest. And Keith couldn’t begrudge them that private mourning.

Lance took it especially hard, his homesickness rendering him uncharacteristically withdrawn and morose, his usual energy becoming a flickering light of waning energy that severely impacting overall morale, where it had once boosted it. Pidge was similarly distant, though her pain held a bitter edge, a spark of stubborn determination that she chose to drown in overwork. 

Allura, instead, held her pain close behind a cool mask of leadership and responsibility as she often did. She had lost so much in the past few months, more than anyone except perhaps Coran; they only had one another and their memories of a distant past now. But she was first and foremost their unshakeable foundation and refused to show her hurt. 

Shiro had gone around providing quiet words of encouragement as though he were collected as well, but Keith knew it was a front. Like Allura Shiro mourned privately, ever the reliable leader, and quietly set his personal troubles aside in favor of the needs of the team.  
But Keith knew him well, and he could read Shiro’s hidden dismay as if it were a nap. It had been over two years since Shiro had last seen his mother, and Mrs. Shirogane had spent most of that time believing her son was dead. It occurred to Keith too that Mrs. Holt had suffered the same pain, but with a husband as well and a daughter following soon after. That all of his friend’s mothers were mourning children. Keith could sympathize with those women, to an extent; he knew what it was like to believe someone you cared for was gone. But he wasn’t sure how that could help the others, didn’t know what to say to them. He’d never been good with his words, had never been in their shoes; he’d been the mourner, not the one being mourned.

And it was for that reason that he was grateful for Hunk and Coran, who were determined to feed their sorrows into cheer, choosing instead to comfort the others with gentle smiles and memories of the past. Coran regaled them with tales of his youth and the Altean festivals he had observed. Hunk immediately latched onto the idea and tried to fumble through an explanation of different Earth customs and holidays. 

Keith watched closely as the faint lines of stress around Shiro and Allura’s eyes began to ease. As Pidge’s fevered typing evened out.

And then Lance’s head popped up from the couch.

“You don’t open stockings on Christmas Eve Hunk, what kind of heathen _are_ you?”

“Nah man, stockings are the previews. You gotta get psyched for- wait you don’t even do stockings!” 

“And you got it wrong,” Pidge interjected from the other side of the room, her bushy brown hair scarcely noticeable from over the back of the couch. “Chanukah is _eight_ days, not nine. The _shamash_ is the attendant candle, that’s why there are nine candles on the _menorah_.”

“-and what the hell, you leave oatmeal and glitter for the reindeer?”

“Reindeer eat oatmeal, Lance. And glitter helps them fly.” Hunk insisted, as if it were common knowledge. “Pidge, I’m just going on what I remember. If any of you guys can do better then go ahead.”

“Alright I _will_.” Lance snarked, and jumped over the back of the couch.

Pidge was right behind him, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. “Then your memory sucks. Y’see, Kwanzaa is-”

As she launched into her explanation to the curious Alteans Keith stepped back to watch as the team came back to life before him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He relaxed as he felt the familiar weight of Shiro’s hand against the small of his back and looked up into his boyfriend’s amused grin.

Maybe they’d be ok after all.

Somehow - Keith wasn’t entirely sure of specifics - they ended up throwing together a makeshift celebration all their own, each of them contributing in some way a piece of their own past to form a collective patchwork of new experiences for all of them to share.  
Hunk, to no one’s surprise, set off for the kitchen with Coran to begin what was to become a lavish feast of peculiar yet tasty dishes; some of which actually sort of resembled things from back home nestled amongst Coran’s heaping bowls of goo.  
Pidge threw herself into a corner, data pad in tow and fingers tapping away to configure the lights in the lounge into some mysterious order with Keith hovering at her side to arrange fixtures at her direction. Soon they had the walls lit with reflected light in every color.  
Lance immediately set his hands on his hips and declared himself in charge of decorating, eventually roping Shiro and Allura into helping him form and hang yards of linked paper chains not only in the lounge, but all around the castle-ship; even the lions had them hanging around their necks. No one knew where he got all the paper from on a ship that ran primarily on digital devices, and Lance wasn’t telling.

And just like that the dark clouds that had shadowed the castle ship had dissolved. 

Lance shimmied around the castle belting out song after song, regardless of whether or not it was festive. Hunk joined in with gusto, the two hanging off one another and yelling “Do you believe in life after love” with the kind of passion only a pair of men tipsy on alien booze and holiday spirit could muster.  
Keith and Pidge rolled their eyes over their cups, wincing at failed attempts at high notes and Coran’s spirited warbling of Altean drinking songs, which had set the princess into fits of giggles. There was no denying the amused twitches at the corner of their mouths, but by god they would never admit it. Shiro found it all highly entertaining and may have been found mouthing along a few times. Keith didn't judge. (Except he did.)

At one point, the Alteans attempted to teach them a card game with an old alien deck Coran had turned up in his quarters, though the result was a confused disaster. The cards were strange, the rules even stranger, yet somehow Pidge had managed to win almost every round. 

“ _Cheating_ ,” Lance had proclaimed acidly, “she’s cheating.” 

Pidge hadn’t denied it.

 

Charades was equally perplexing as Coran kept imitating alien species no one but Allura had even heard of, and Keith’s acting was vague at best.

“Is that… I dunno, a dog?”

“Felnakian hamdinger?”

“What in god’s name is a-”

“Keith,” Allura interrupted, trying not to smile and failing miserably. They’d been guessing for a solid twenty minutes. “we give up. What are you?”

He threw up his hands, clearly frustrated. “A snake!”

“A snake?” Lance called out, bouncing to his feet in offense. “How was that a _snake_? Snake’s don’t have arms!”

“Like your dolphin was any better!” 

“I’ll never forget that for as long as I live.” Hunk mused peacefully from his spot on the couch.

“Alright, alright, enough.” Shiro finally broke in. “It’s the princess’ turn.”

 

As the flow of Nunvill began to taper and the platters became filled with more crumbs than food, they sat around the lounge swapping stories of winter at home. Holidays and new year traditions. Past joys and horror stories.  
Keith was currently wedged between the arm of the couch and Hunk’s soft, solid form. Allura and Coran were across from him, quietly reminiscing together about their own rituals with bright eyes and lips upturned.

He enjoyed listening to his friends talk about their families, despite having little to contribute himself. He quashed the familiar sensation of impending loneliness beneath his metaphorical thumb, willing it to die.  
That time with Shiro, back when he had been Keith’s friend only, was a precious memory Keith reflected on quietly, fondly, tucking it away within himself to treasure in private. It wasn’t much but it was all he had; until now, anyway. He had never built his hopes up that they could return to that again, not now when the universe was at stake, though he liked to imagine they might in the future, if they survived this, if...

“-what about you, Keith?”

He blinked up from his cup, pulled from his thoughts. 

“Huh?”

“What do you usually do over the holidays?”

It was a simple question, innocent enough, though his cheeks couldn’t help but pinken under the inevitable sympathetic gazes he would surely receive.

“Umm, nothing.” he admitted, fiddling with his mug. He tried to play it off casually, mostly succeeded, “Just pizza, I guess. I hung out with Shiro one year when I was still enlisted.”

Shiro’s eyes found his across the couches then, full of affection. They held the promise that Shiro remembered; he remembered, and with as much fondness as Keith did. He hadn’t forgotten after all.

“Ah, pizza,” Pidge said sagely, “the ultimate holiday dinner. That’s what I did at the Garrison, too.” 

While hard at work trying to research her missing family’s whereabouts, they all had no doubt.

Hunk made a disgusted noise from between the Lance and Keith. “Pizza’s fine, but the cafeteria food was gross.”

Shiro laughed at that, but nodded in agreement. “I promise the officer’s don’t get any better.”

It was comforting to know, but only just.

Hunk was nudged in the gut playfully by Lance, who waggled his eyebrows. “That’s why we snuck in and made our own Christmas dinner, am I right?”

“You mean I did.” Hunk corrected. “ _You_ caught the stove on fire.”

There was a groan of exasperation from their left.

“That was you guys, of course it was.” Pidge muttered darkly against her cup rim.

 

Keith couldn't remember ever laughing this much or feeling this carefree, not in a long time. With this, it all became real. With this, they could relive their joys and desires to be with those they had left behind, rekindling the hope and faith that they would return - they would - and live to experience those memories once again.  
He hoped so, he truly did. He had a future to look forward to, beyond saving the universe. One with Shiro at his side, one with his friends to continue laughing with him. It was a welcome thought.

 

They fell asleep on the couches, one by one. Pidge had been the first to nod off; snuggled up against Shiro’s side with her glasses askew on her face and a trail of drool on her chin. Lance was on the other couch, long limbs draped across Hunk’s lap and wrapped in a blanket while Hunk snored away in a steady rhythm, head leaned back and arms on the back of the couch. Another hour of hushed conversation saw Allura finally retiring to bed with a soft “good night”, with Coran departing not long after - though not without one last nightcap.

“Good night, boys.” he bade them, clapping Keith gently on the shoulder as he passed.

And then it was just the two of them, as it had once been, relaxed against soft cushions and the even cadence of their friends’ breathing. It was late now, judging by the soft glowing light of the ship’s “night mode”, and all was quiet. 

It was perfect for it. 

Shiro had been well on his way to dozing himself, eyes acting as if they wanted to droop, when Keith finally spoke up, quietly grabbing his attention.

“Hey.”

He inclined his head wordlessly towards the hallway in the direction of the observation deck, dark eyes inquiring.

Shiro nodded in understanding, in agreement. With utmost care to not wake her, he turned to slide his arms under Pidge and stood, supporting her as if she weighed nothing at all. He deposited her gently onto the spot Keith had vacated at Hunk’s side where she wormed closer into the comfort and safety of the Yellow’s Paladin’s body heat as unconsciously as a puppy with its littermates. While Shiro re-draped her blanket around her, Keith leaned over to slide the glasses from her nose and rested them safely atop the coffee table.

They left their friends like that, a comfortable tangle of bodies and blankets all breathing softly and content. 

Together they padded down the hallway in silence, fingers seeking out the other in the dark and twining together easily. Their affection was relatively private, kept that way because the fate of the universe was much more important than they and always came first, but when it was just the two of them they came together as naturally as if they were two rivers, flowing as one. It was an easy thing that required no conscious thought or reason. They simply were.

While it was common knowledge that Keith could often be found the training room, Shiro favored the observation deck and it was easy to understand why. It was stunning. Floor to ceiling, a long wall of nothing but glass separated them from a sea of stars. It was everything they had dreamed about back on Earth, the kind of landscape that stole breath. With very little artificial light about the ship at this hour, the twinkling light from celestial bodies near and far bathed the room in the softest of silver glows.  
Shiro’s eyes glittered with it, made the white patch of his hair almost ethereal.

They settled themselves on a wide chair, curled up against one another’s body heat and enveloped within a large blanket. The stars were brighter than the last time they’d done this; closer, as they themselves were now closer in body and spirit. They sat like that for a long time, content to admire the view.

“This reminds me of that Christmas we spent together,” Keith finally breathed, eyes lazily tracing around a distant nebula. “right before...” 

He broke off, suddenly unwilling to continue the thought. Doing so would only dredge up painful memories for the both of them and this wasn’t a night for it. Still, the discomfort of that knowledge drooped Keith’s shoulders, had him resting his temple lightly against the other, and Shiro circled his lover’s knuckles soothingly with his thumb.

“I remember.” 

Shiro’s words were a gentle rumble, a thing Keith could feel against the man’s chest, soothing away the hurt from before. “It’s one of my favorite memories.”

He chuckled quietly after a moment. “I guess you finally got that party after all.”

Keith huffed in amusement, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “And we even had cake.”

Shiro groaned. “I can’t believe we _still_ can’t find a proper Christmas cake.”

“It was a cake at least.” Keith argued. “Sort of. Just a little...jiggly.”

 

“Mm, the polka-dotted carrot-looking things were ok, but I think I’ll stick with regular old strawberries next time.”

“Hey, it beats the Spam and crackers I had last year. Alien cake beats no cake.” 

Shiro laughed at that, and the sound of it spread throughout Keith’s body, warming him down to his toes and lightening his heart.  
The man’s smile could chase darkness away, Keith could swear.

“Can’t argue with that.”

They didn’t speak of Shiro’s own experiences at that time; they didn’t need to. The Black Paladin was relaxed, wrapped around the Red, and Keith was determined to keep it that way for as long as he could. Shiro deserved that much at the very least. They both did.

He hummed in contentment when Shiro pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and tucked him under his chin snugly, arm at his waist and holding him close. 

“We’ll do this again next year. It’ll be our tradition.” Shiro murmured, so easy and confident in his words that Keith was willing to believe him. Willing to believe that they could at least have this, despite the daunting responsibility that shadowed them and the uncertainty that came with it. 

They’d had it before, hadn’t they? And though Shiro had been missing for a year, he had returned despite all odds. And here they were now: different place, different situation, both of them irrevocably changed. But still here, together, a quiet pair drinking in the vastness of all existence and one another’s company.

It was enough. It was more than enough, more than he could have ever hoped to have. Shiro here at his side once more, closer now in a way he could never have dreamed of before back at the Garrison. Friends -family, really, the only family he had ever known- that he cared for and who cared about _him_ , just glad to have each other and be alive despite the circumstances. 

He was happy, all things considered. He was… content. And deep down, maybe this what he had been searching for, for as long as he could remember.

“Yeah,” Keith murmured, finally breaking the comfortable silence between them, “yeah, let’s do it. All of us.”

They would all be here to do this again next year, he knew. Refused to believe otherwise. He’d make sure of it.

He pulled back to pepper slow, tiny kisses along Shiro’s jaw. Shiro turned slightly towards him, the heat of the their breath mingling between them, ghosting over lips and skin and warming every corner of Keith’s heart. Their foreheads brushed gently as they soaked in the other’s warmth, content to share space and oxygen. It was so heartbreakingly peaceful that Keith could hardly bear it; that they could share a moment like this.  
He reached out to cradle Shiro’s cheek and pulled their lips together in the sweetest, most tender of kisses. 

This was home, this was family, and the only tradition he could ever want.

Ahead of them, a shooting star streaked out in the distance, splitting across one corner of the observation window in an instant of passionate light. But they paid no mind, too captivated by one another to take notice.


End file.
